Chapter 13
Ethan glanced at his watch for what felt like the fiftieth time in the last five minutes. He knew there was nothing about the gesture that would make Katy or Noah arrive any faster, but it provided him with a distraction, if nothing else, from the nerves roiling in his belly.
He hadn’t slept at all last night. It wasn’t because the bed in his very tiny room was uncomfortable—quite the opposite, in fact, as he found it deceptively agreeable despite its size—but because his mind had been swirling with a replay of his conversation with Julia.
Although he’d been desperate when he’d called her, he had still known that coming here would be, frankly, messed-up.
That the avalanche of old memories and a confrontation with how everything had gone wrong would all come to a head.
Maybe he’d been optimistic in believing they could get past it quickly or let their shared history trump whatever had happened to them at the very end, as though eight years of silence could somehow simply be swept under the rug or forgotten, but he knew now that it had been a fool’s hope.
Julia had made it abundantly clear that she may have forgiven, instigating a delicate truce for mutual gain over the next few days, but she would not forget.
Then, because he was a coward, instead of dwelling on the painful memories of his past, he checked his watch again.
He’d been tracking their plane, so he knew it had touched down that morning at exactly 8:47 a.m. It wasn’t a commercial flight.
Instead, they’d chartered a sleek private jet, making a single stop to refuel in the Midwest before heading straight to the small regional airport in Jamestown.
From there, it was a quick thirty-minute drive down winding country roads to the bed-and-breakfast.
The hefty travel day wasn’t exactly the five-star treatment those two were probably used to these days, even if Fordham PR had sprung for the private jet to smooth things over.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the lake, the place that had drawn him back again and again for the first half of his life. It was hard to believe that he hadn’t been back here, looking out onto the water, for almost ten years.
Following his sleepless night, he had gotten dressed in a semicasual ensemble of jeans and a crisp white dress shirt and made his way downstairs, both anticipating and dreading the possibility of seeing Julia again.
An unidentifiable emotion had risen up in his chest when he’d realized the dining area was quiet, the house still peaceful and sleepy, although evidence of life had manifested in a sideboard that had been set up with a light breakfast. Fresh coffee, juice, muffins, scones, some bread already sliced, jam and butter in small glass containers on the side, and a platter of various cut-up fruits.
It was a nice touch, and with the bread still soft and the baked goods still warm, it brought an image of Julia to his mind, sleepily setting it all up for their guests. For him.
After eating, he’d begun his pacing of the gardens before settling down on one of the new red Adirondack chairs on the dock and staring out toward Lake Linden, a light mist settling on the surface of the water, breathing out its secrets.
He hadn’t thought of it as Lake Linden in years—it had always been just “the lake,” the backdrop to summers that had felt endless once upon a time.
Now the name sounded almost too formal, too distant for something that had once felt like home.
There was a painfulness to it, that sweet-sharp ache that accompanied nostalgia and regret. And even though the old dock had clearly been torn down and a sturdy, pressure-treated redwood one had taken its place, it still felt like a spot imbued with memories in its very fiber.
Allowing his mind to wander slightly, he found himself wondering how Julia was doing.
How her ankle felt. He wondered if she had slept at all last night or if she had lain awake like he had, thinking about them and all that had transpired.
He wondered if she kept the ice on her leg wrapped tightly to reduce the inflammation or if she was hobbling around on it still, like some sort of invincible cyborg who healed at record speed, though he was certain nothing could be farther from the truth.
His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating in his pocket.
A sharp zing of panic went through him in the milliseconds before he pulled it out, a litany of disasters that might have befallen his plan whirring through his mind. He answered quickly without checking the number, heart in his throat, and was taken aback by the voice he heard.
“Hi, Ethan.”
It couldn’t be.
“Emily?” He scrubbed his hand painfully over his face, as though the gesture would somehow erase this moment from existence. “How did you get this number?”
“The hows aren’t important.” Her words came out slow and sultry. He knew she was going for a purr, but it was too manufactured to be as sensuous as her goal. “I miss you. I want to see you.”
“Emily,” he said again, this time as a groan bordering on frustration. “We’ve been through this. There is nothing between us. Whatever you think happened—”
“I’m not an idiot, Ethan!” she snapped, and he clicked his mouth shut in the face of her ire, his professionalism too imbued in him to provoke her further. “I know what we had!”
He felt his heart rate elevate again, this time with an urgency to get her off the phone before someone came to find him out here or Katy and Noah’s car appeared on the gravel drive. Allowing his professional side to take over, he shifted from antagonistic to soothing.
“I think what we really need is some time to talk things through. Maybe over a coffee? I’m away on some business at the moment, but let’s reconnect when I get back. How does that sound?”
There was a prolonged silence, and he sent up a quick prayer that his misleading promise would end things here and now.
“Fine,” she said finally, sounding only slightly assuaged. “Didn’t realize you still had any business to attend to”—he pinched his nose and ignored the dig—“but call me when you’re available.” The last word held a hint of sarcasm, which he also chose to ignore in his desperation to hang up.
“Sounds great,” he replied, hoping his tone didn’t sound as fake to her as it felt to his own ears. “Talk soon, Emily. Bye-bye.”
He hung up before she could even respond, and no sooner had he pressed End than he heard the sound of a car turning up the gravel drive from the main road. He forgot about the call almost instantly, his focus shifting into business mode.
This is it. This was the start of the mission that would make or break him.
Briskly clearing the dock and making his way up the rocky hill toward the driveway that wound around the front entrance, he watched as the hired car pulled up in front of the house and came to a squeaking halt. Both back doors opened simultaneously.
Showtime.
Affecting his friendliest expression, he held his arms out as Katy Nils and Noah Booker stepped out of either door.
“Welcome!” he said, hoping he sounded enthusiastic without coming across too manic. “How was your flight?”
The driver had come around at this point and was opening the trunk, helping the two remove their suitcases. Noah took his own as well as Katy’s, who shot him a genuine and grateful smile before turning to Ethan.
She was slender and tall—much taller than Julia, though the second Ethan even thought about making the comparison, he had to question why Julia was the litmus test for all other women he met—with deeply tanned skin and golden-blonde hair that fell down her back in gentle, salon-curated waves.
Her dark brown doe eyes crinkled at the corners with her smile, and she simply shrugged in answer to his question.
“That bad?” Ethan replied sympathetically, returning her infectious smile with a genuine one of his own.
Whatever he was expecting from this girl, she didn’t quite fit the bill.
There was something fawn-like about her: loose limbs she seemed yet to grow into, a ready grin, and no air of celebrity expectation or privilege about her.
He knew she had come from a working-class immigrant family—her mother was from El Salvador, and her father was Norwegian—and they had been close-knit, all things considered.
It was only when her fame had exploded and the money situation had begun to get out of hand that things took a turn for the worse.
Her father bore the brunt of the blame, but her mother was complicit, and Ethan could see the shadows in Katy’s eyes if he truly looked closely.
It must have taken more of a toll on her than anyone realized.
Before he could get too lost in his assessment, however, Noah approached him as well, hand outstretched.
“I’m less of a complainer than this one,” he said, shaking Ethan’s own proffered hand firmly, recognizable traces of West London in his voice, familiar to anyone who had followed his career. “It’s nice to meet you officially.”
The young man before him was more recognizable than Katy, not because of any personal relationship Ethan had with him but because he simply had the more famous face.
Anyone who had been anywhere in the last decade knew Noah Booker, otherwise known as Augustus Tooley, the boy who could bring books to life.
The Spellbound series had rocketed him to superstardom as a child and preteen, making him a household name all over the world, but particularly in the UK and North America.
Once the series wrapped up for good, he had purposely stepped away from the limelight, attempting to focus on his education and a chance at a normal life.
For almost a decade, he’d succeeded. He’d finished high school and attended Oxford University before stepping back into the spotlight with a few choice roles, including the superhero movie he had done with Katy, who had been a relative newcomer until Double Blind had put her face on the map.